


A Conjuring of Dragons

by coley_merrin



Category: Super Junior-M, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Wizards, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coley_merrin/pseuds/coley_merrin
Summary: When an injured dragon crash lands into Zhou Mi’s yard, as a wizard, Zhou Mi has an obligation to help. What follows obligation is choice, between two people connected to magic.
Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Zhou Mi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	A Conjuring of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a request from my requests account on [tumblr](https://coleyextras.tumblr.com/).

***

It was not raining, though to Yoongi it felt as though it was. Air slipped over skin and scale, his body wanting to contort, to protect, and all he could do was force himself to fly. He would not fall, had never fallen even in his memories. He’d bumped into the earth, a few times hard, when he’d first found his wings, but the air had been his haven. He would not fall. He could not fall. There was nowhere _to_ fall, even as his nostrils flared, the scent of magic like a mirage. It drew him like a haven, a promise he couldn’t have put into words as his only focus was on moving, landing.

And land he did, the impact searing through him, knocking him almost senseless as he skidded. He couldn’t stay like that, wanted the pain off of him. He gasped, growled, talons tearing at the earth. The change was never painful, except with wounds. Yoongi had no wing as a human, and so the tear in them manifested strangely, burning out of his back like a geyser. But he had a side, and his fingers came away wet from his skin, a deep cut tracing over his ribs and up onto his shoulder blade.

The racket might not have woken the dead, but it woke the wizard whose yard he’d tumbled into. There was an awareness of magic in Yoongi, strong enough to guide him to where magic was strongest. He’d struggled into the change, just early enough to have been able to shove up onto his knees and glare at the man who’d flapped outside in some kind of robe.

“We have a pact, human. You’ll abide by it,” Yoongi tried to growl.

But he missed the stump he was trying to brace himself on, finding himself caught in strong hands, and after a moment, lifted.

“I’ll honor that pact. This is my home. As I’m sure you’re aware. My name is Zhou Mi.”

Zhou Mi. Yoongi was sure he was dripping blood all over his home before Zhou Mi set him down on some kind of lounge chair. There was a rustling, soft somethings being tucked against his sides as Yoongi clung to the edge of the cushion. He hurt. That was all he could think. He hurt everywhere.

“Here,” Zhou Mi said, and lifted Yoongi’s head. He stared at the ring on Zhou Mi’s finger as he drank from the cup Zhou Mi pressed to his lips. It was bitter with a tang of sweet and went down his throat like fire. He recognized the taste of some of it. Herbs. Other… Yoongi licked his lips, swallowing down what was left in his mouth as Zhou Mi took the glass away. Zhou Mi hadn’t taken the hand away that supported his head, which was good, as his eyes started blurring.

“Rest and let me do my magic,” Zhou Mi said.

His head was put down on something firm, yet still soft, and a cold cloth pressed onto his forehead as his eyes closed. He clung to consciousness, clung to the feeling of fingers stroking his shoulder, and slipped into darkness.

***

Yoongi woke to bandages circling him, taped across him, and a hand soothing him so he didn’t try to move too fast. He’d woken a few times before with an urgent bladder, sleeping again, waking again to drink, to take some kind of pill for pain, and then to sleep again. When he woke the last time, his head was clearer, and there was the constant presence of Zhou Mi sitting near him.

“I thought you would wake soon,” Zhou Mi said. “Would you like to try sitting up?”

No. But his aching head also said yes. Zhou Mi all but lifted him into a sitting position, the movement sending fire over his wounds and a dull ache taking its place and the groan impossible to stifle.

“How is that?”

“Like hell,” Yoongi croaked, and blinked at the sudden smile on the wizard’s face.

“The wound was long, but not deep. If your wings were hurt, that will probably be the bulk of the pain. I was able to urge it along a little, but your body needs to do the rest while you’re here. I have some soup keeping warm, if you want some?”

Yoongi followed about half of the words spouted at him, but he got that he was healing, that he could stay, and that there was food.

“Yes. Please,” Yoongi said.

It was just above tepid, so he wouldn’t burn himself too, he guessed. But he drank down the broth and rice, and let Zhou Mi help him until he was lying down again. He had long thighs, Yoongi thought. And a soft touch. Not like other wizards would have been, scolding him, relegating him to some closet to molder in.

“Is there anyone you need contacted? Anyone I should let know you’re here?”

“No. I don’t work, and I live alone,” Yoongi said. He knew enough to trust, at least, that that wouldn’t be a reason for Zhou Mi to make him disappear.

“All right. If there is anyone, just let me know. You can stay while you heal,” Zhou Mi told him, before Yoongi’s mind eased to nothing again. Night turned to day, with Zhou Mi checking him, helping him move, helping him drink more medicine.

When he next woke the sun was shining. Zhou Mi helped him to walk to the bathroom, and he was able to wash up a little, changing clothes and feeling almost normal except for the pain still lingering from his wing. He couldn’t fly, with it like that. Or he’d end up crash landing in some unsuspecting human’s house. Another unsuspecting human’s house. Could he take a taxi, sure, could he take care of himself at home, doubtful, and it wasn’t worth the chance. With the pact invoked, it wasn’t as though he could be shoved out. He ate again, and slept, and woke to Zhou Mi doing chores. Zhou Mi was different in ways he didn’t think about wizards being. He accidentally banged pots when washing them, had to sweep up crumbs. Yoongi, flat on the blue couch, could do little about it. Everything burned when he moved, but he also knew it wasn’t possible to stay still.

He propped himself up, holding his arm to his chest, and watching Zhou Mi put books on the shelf across the room.

“Why don’t you use magic for that?” Yoongi asked.

“I do for some things,” Zhou Mi said. “More as a laziness crutch, I suppose. For some things… It feels almost as though I’m doing the magic a disservice to use it that way.”

“Bring a couple of those here, would you? Magic serves you when it’s needed. I guess that’s all that is really necessary.”

“That’s true,” Zhou Mi agreed cheerfully, carefully selection a couple of volumes and bringing them to set on the table beside a mug of water. “Are you ready to eat again?”

He polled his stomach, and nodded as Zhou Mi took that assent. After another bathroom trip, anyway. It felt like he was an old, old man, even older than he usually felt. He napped while Zhou Mi cooked, napped after he ate, and would’ve napped again if Zhou Mi hadn’t nudged him a little to walk around a little. That evening, he was able sit up a while longer, to sit at the table, eat real food, as Zhou Mi watched, and nodded. Approved. And they walked the garden the next day, avoiding the divots where his claws had dug in in pain, and the huge, black-dried drops of blood.

“I’m amazed you made it to me.”

Yoongi was, too, as he clung to Zhou Mi’s arm. And then to his shoulder as a wave of dizziness hit him as they made it back inside, face pressed against Zhou Mi’s neck for a long moment as Zhou Mi helped him to sit back down. He smelled of strange things, light, and airy.

“You’re not like other wizards.”

Zhou Mi laughed, straightening a blanket over Yoongi’s legs.

“I find that none of us are very like others. How many dragons are like you?” A fair point, and Yoongi conceded it with his expression as Zhou Mi grinned. “I’ll leave you to rest, if you—“

“You can stay,” Yoongi said.

The books were good company, but silent company. And his mind was too fast, and his ears too dim to the silence. But Zhou Mi sat, almost close enough to where he could feel the radiant heat of his body.

“Will you tell me how you were injured?” Zhou Mi asked.

No. He shouldn’t. But he wanted to.

“It was another dragon,” Yoongi began. Obvious, from the wound, maybe. But Zhou Mi’s head was supported against an arm on the back of the couch, watching him with soft, and curious eyes. Zhou Mi gasped a little at his recounting of the fight, touching Yoongi’s arm and leaving his hand there, almost making him smile in the middle of what should have been a serious tale. And while he spoke, he forgot the pain a little. Which was some other kind of magic.

***

Having an arm in a sling seemed like peak inconvenience. Not that Yoongi couldn’t slip it out when he wanted, or when Zhou Mi wasn’t watching to scold, but it always made his healing wound sting and burn. He could make his own decisions. But when he went to the sink for water, he found dishes there, dirty from their last meal. And Zhou Mi was off doing whatever it was wizards did to keep themselves busy. So he eased his arm out of the sling, and turned on the water. It wasn’t like he was doing it for Zhou Mi, but there was the fact that Zhou Mi was keeping him and looking after him. That had to count for something.

He almost got away with it, too, putting the last glass in the drainer, and jolting to see Zhou Mi standing there with a tilted head. Yoongi slid his arm into his sling, and picked up his nearly-forgotten water glass.

“Thank you,” Zhou Mi said. With gratitude and the faint tinge of judgement.

Yoongi paid for it, too, the aching and throbbing almost too much after he got sat back down. Zhou Mi was there within minutes with a pill, like he could tell Yoongi wasn’t going to ask. It helped him settle, and relax.

But he kept an eye out for more opportunities, not content to just settle in an unfamiliar house as part of the furniture. It wasn’t enough to just watch Zhou Mi doing things, from wiping up counters, or hanging the clothes he’d supplied Yoongi to wear. There was a quiet calm to the house, belied by Zhou Mi’s raucous laugh, and quick smile. He knew Zhou Mi didn’t cluck at him because he was trying to get in Yoongi’s way, and more trying to make sure he healed. Getting him out of the way faster, surely. No one needed a dragon taking up space and eating all the food.

Folding towels with one arm was an absolute pain in the ass, but he did a few anyway, keeping his arm in the sling that time to avoid the Eyebrow of Judgement.

“You can stop if it hurts,” Zhou Mi said. “Or even before it hurts.”

“I know,” Yoongi rumbled.

“Okay.”

Like Zhou Mi kind of believed him. He didn’t hover. He just let Yoongi hover, he guessed, watching as Zhou Mi fixed the clawed-up lawn, or just silently watching Zhou Mi cook - although Zhou Mi usually chatted at him and eventually got him going.

It was the regretful part of the healing process when Zhou Mi decided more needed to be done. Even if Zhou Mi’s magic didn’t extend to full healing, he had stinky, disgusting poultices he’d begun applying and changing two or three times a day.

“The physical wound is almost closed, though it’s still red and swollen,” Zhou Mi explained. “But since your wing now is… How would you say that? Inside of you? More of a psychic pain, this will help to calm your body and let it let go.”

All Yoongi knew was that the poultices were squishy and he felt strange sitting with his shirt off as Zhou Mi cleaned his wound and sopped up running poultice liquid.

“Tell me if this tugs at your wound,” Zhou Mi told him. “Your muscles are trying to protect your body right now.”

The press of Zhou Mi’s thumbs into the muscles of his shoulder almost had Yoongi screeching because it was too tight, from not moving, from being tense, from having his arm in the sling. It was like stretching too hard, and then there was heat, like Zhou Mi’s hands were glowing, just pressing against his skin.

“Sorry, I should have been doing this for days but I was afraid it would keep things from healing. Here.”

Zhou Mi helped him lie down on his belly, and Zhou Mi pulled over a chair, sitting with him for almost an hour as Yoongi fought against sounds unless they were pain. Zhou Mi worked across his shoulders, down to the poultice packing, stroking, rolling his thumbs. The attention was sweet, like he could feel all of Zhou Mi’s focus on him, but it made his skin prickle, also. It was horrible, and amazing, and made parts of him feel like limp noodles, and other parts of him less so. 

Zhou Mi covered him with a blanket, and Yoongi gave in to the relaxed parts.

Except there was the little massage the next time the poultice got changed, too.

“Where are you getting all these foul ingredients,” Yoongi muttered into a pillow.

“Mostly from the garden, or from friends I trade with. I’ve had this one brewing since the night you arrived.”

“Presumptuous.”

Zhou Mi laughed, stroking against Yoongi’s hair for a moment and making Yoongi stiffen.

“Sorry. All the books say dragons shouldn’t be touched.”

“You just had your hands on me.”

“But that’s for— For healing.”

All Yoongi could do was grunt, his mind too fuzzy to think of any response. For healing, right. Hours after, he took a turn out of the bathroom, and almost staggered into the wall. The bang of his hand hitting it had Zhou Mi running to him like an over-eager guard dog, and Yoongi would’ve laughed but for his head trying to spin off his shoulders.

“Yoongi.” Zhou Mi’s hands were cool on his skin, and they were never cool, and he didn’t understand why Zhou Mi hissed until he said, “You’re burning up.”

Yoongi let himself be poured onto a soft surface that wasn’t the couch, blissfully cool cotton against his skin and a wet on his forehead and his neck. There was a voice he didn’t recognize, once, as Zhou Mi lifted his head and urged him to drink. First something horrible, like dead toads and oil slicks, and then pure, clean water. His skin felt hot and crisp, as he woke and slept, restless, until he was pinned again and the poultice changed. It stank, too, worse than the drink had been, and he wondered if it was his body or the medicine. He wanted to roar, and fight, and claw, and Zhou Mi held his wrists and stroked his hair, and spoke to him in words he didn’t know until his skin seemed to tingle with the edge of magic. He dreamed of his wings beating, stretching full, and straight and without pain.

And he woke, to the valley and mountains of collarbones rioting in his line of sight. His sling was flopped on an acre of skin, too, and it was Zhou Mi’s from the sound of his breathing and the feel of his magic. The bed was a comfort under him, and Zhou Mi against him, even if his breathing was shallow and he was still, afraid of pain. There was a hand on his wrist, almost holding Yoongi’s hand, and he still felt hot, but not so hot he could have shed his skin. It felt like his wing wanted to break free, like he wanted to reach out, roll like ashes on the wind, plunge his hands into water, and laugh at irresistible smiles.

He was going to live, and he was going to fly, but wizards couldn’t. Yoongi closed his eyes and let himself be held a little longer.

***

Yoongi’s first explanation of wizards came from his mother, holding his hand and letting him look into a mirror at himself.

“What you see, it is what a wizard sees in the mirror. They can’t change as we can. Their power sits in them here,” she’d told him, tapping against the middle of his chest. “Their power draws alongside of ours, but though they are bound to help us, from our ancestors long ago, you cannot trust them, Yoongi.”

“Okay, Mama.”

He’d seen and smelled many wizards, old ones, young ones. The arc of power was never far from them, weaker at times, and easily seen in others. It flared bright, blinding, like an untapped geyser. Yoongi had little enough magic himself, enough maybe to help a fire along but not create it itself. Magic was his being, not what he could do. It was his transformation, and his life, and dragons - once plentiful and revered - were few. Territorial in the most illogical of ways, it seemed, but Yoongi had fought to preserve his own home from a dragon larger than him who wanted a claim to it - to expand beyond it.

Yoongi had failed, in a sense, with his injury. But he couldn’t sense the other dragon either, so that was less his concern. Maybe the dragon would be back, or maybe he wouldn’t. He would be more prepared, he thought. Or maybe the dragon would think he’d been put in his place.

With wizards, the less they knew the better. The less they knew, the less likely they could turn the magic against the dragons. His parents had always wondered if fighting between the dragons and wizards had caused the rift, and thus the decline of both their kinds. The pact had been forged long before that. A wizard in peril could call on it to be helped by a dragon, at least to get far enough away to be safe. And a dragon would find sanctuary and help in a wizard’s presence.

But he’d never truly had to call on a wizard for it, not as an adult. He’d been near a wizard in the presence of his parents, but to stand on his own feet in front of a wizard of some power, and trust? With the pact invoked, nothing could be done to _hurt_ him, until they agreed it was done. It was why he truly didn’t question every concoction Zhou Mi took to him, no matter how foul. There were wizards who were able to keep their baser instincts, if they hated dragons, in line. It would have been desperate wizard to throw aside the pact, and it was obvious Yoongi was no danger, to Zhou Mi.

Maybe more than sensing Zhou Mi’s magic, he could feel intent. It burned just as true, in the concern, the gentle touches, and the disapproving glares. As his wing had burned inside him, he wondered, sometimes, looking at Zhou Mi, how many things Zhou Mi thought of him that were untrue. Perhaps he thought that dragons were solitary, until they were mated, which was wrong. He had just as much a need for contact as he had for solitude, maybe not as much in equal measures but the needs were there. Don’t touch a dragon, or he will bite? Was that what wizards thought?

Yoongi couldn’t have bitten a kitten, letting Zhou Mi pour medicine and water into him and roll him over to remove the poultice and let his skin breathe. Yoongi made a sound as the mattress shifted under Zhou Mi’s weight, and Zhou Mi was there, checking him, drawing the sheet over him.

“I’m sorry. The wound is better. Did you hear my friend? She helped. I’m sorry I didn’t know I was pushing the hurt deeper instead of drawing it out.”

That was why he’d burned. What was good for the physical had inflamed him inside. Instead of the burning, it felt like a small little bud, trying to peek up after spring. A yearning kind of need to stretch, and unfurl, something held too tight.

“Zhou Mi,” was all that Yoongi could get out, scooting his head along the pillow and feeling too weak in that moment even to move his fingers and tell Zhou Mi what he wanted.

But Zhou Mi seemed to know, his eyes on Yoongi’s, and his fingers cool as he brushed the hair back from Yoongi’s forehead and soothed back along his head. They lingered at his ear, at the rings there, but settled after a moment on a soothing rhythm that had Yoongi’s eyes slipping closed.

Perhaps to him then, almost as healing as the medicine inside him.

***

Yoongi basking in the sun was very far from his usual trend in things. However, once he’d successfully been able to wobble himself to the bathroom and back, Zhou Mi insisted. And it wasn’t as though Zhou Mi carried him, and he couldn’t glare like a dragon could, but there’d been enough gentle battery to get Yoongi moving. So he’d wobbled out onto the wide porch, and then onto the grass. And there he was, face down on a blanket with the sun beating on his back. Ten minutes, Zhou Mi had promised. Ten minutes with his shirt off, bandages off, everything. Just him, the sun, and whatever small life forms were running around in the grass under the blanket.

He could’ve fallen asleep like that, was probably why he’d never tried it before, aside from the wind that picked up and sent awareness over the skin of his back. If he’d really fallen asleep, he’d have woken up like a dragon’s own cooked lobster, and that wasn’t going to help anyone.

“You’re missing out,” Yoongi mumbled, turning his head so he could stare at Zhou Mi’s swinging legs.

“On what?”

“Taking in all manner of radiation. Communing with the grass. Learning all the dragon secrets.”

Zhou Mi laughed, the sound expanding to the fence and washing over him like the wind.

“Getting you relaxed and coaxing secrets from you would be cheating,” Zhou Mi said. But he moved closer, sitting beside the blanket, close enough that Yoongi could see him pull a blade of grass and begin to tear it. “But if you have a wizard secret you want to know?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi murmured, letting thoughts float through his head as he considered. Zhou Mi was helping him. He had no complaints, no requests, really, except that he wanted to be well. And yet, except for the healer when he’d fallen ill, it had been Zhou Mi, and only Zhou Mi looking after him. “You live alone.”

“I do. There are few who would endure my experiments, though I have colleagues and friends. Wizard, and human both.”

It made sense. The chatter in the background as Yoongi rested, Zhou Mi speaking on the phone sometimes a few times a day. But he contemplated Zhou Mi’s knee, and could almost feel Zhou Mi’s touch against his arm, his back.

“You’re of age for a mate,” Yoongi said.

Zhou Mi laughed. “My parents think so, too.”

“They are wizards?”

“My mother. Not my father. But I was born with the full blessing of power.”

Yoongi hummed. It was fascinating, the differences. He could not have had a parent who wasn’t a dragon, but Zhou Mi could. And Zhou Mi could then have a child also who was or wasn’t. But in the house where only Zhou Mi lived, there was neither mate, nor child.

“Dragons… The mate we have young with, and the mate we take for companionship are not always the same. Some are. Most aren’t.”

“I didn’t know that,” Zhou Mi said.

“There are few enough…” Yoongi inhaled, exhaled, and wondered if his mouth was going too far. But he didn’t care. “Few enough that to find a mate to have young with is unlikely.”

“Would you have to fight?”

“No. But yes, maybe.” The thought of it made him grimace. “To be kept out of the circle. Not as a dragon. In the circle, only the mates decide.”

As it should have been. No interruptions. No influences. Just an understanding.

“One day, maybe. We should get you in now.”

“Maybe,” Yoongi agreed, accepting Zhou Mi’s help to get up on his knees. He felt better. Stronger, almost, like he’d been a plant basking in the sun. “But it would be a man I wanted for companionship.”

There was a small pause, a tension of Zhou Mi’s hands on Yoongi’s arm, on his side.

“Is that not the way of wizards?” Yoongi asked, staring at Zhou Mi’s neck instead of at his face.

“For some,” Zhou Mi said. “For some.”

Zhou Mi helped him to wash first, and then to the bed. Yoongi relaxed utterly as Zhou Mi soothed cool cream over his skin, and lightly rested a sheet over him. With Zhou Mi near, and his body at rest, all that was left for Yoongi were dreams.

***

Yoongi began to sleep on the couch again, as his healing progressed. Maybe also as his mind healed, too, when the flame of Zhou Mi’s magic seemed too hot to touch or to look at. Too much to lie beside, in his awareness of it. Instead he laid on the couch and turned, and rested, inhaling the scent of dust, of a sweet candle Zhou Mi had burned earlier. 

When his consciousness waned, he saw Zhou Mi in a room. A workshop, maybe. He stood over bottles and bowls, stacks of books, and burning candles. Zhou Mi stood at peace, his face serene, lifting his hands full of what looked like sand and shimmered like glitter. He inhaled and looked up, meeting Yoongi’s eyes, and after a deep breath, exhaled. Powder rose and gleamed as Zhou Mi blew, swirling, forming, stretching like wings. A dragon’s wings! A dragon materializing in the air, swirling, and screaming, and darting straight for Yoongi’s face.

Yoongi jolted out of sleep, his arms trying to struggle up, trying to protect himself from the dragon in his dreams. He panted, sweating, and shifting on the comfortable couch. It felt like his home after days spent sleeping on it. But he rolled off it, then, going to stare out through the glass door into the garden. Sometimes his wound itched, making him want to roll his shoulders, spread out his arms. The sun was near to rising, the world in strange colors of blue, and green. He thought of the dream. In one way, it was like Zhou Mi was unleashing a dragon at him. But he had no illusions that Zhou Mi had called the dragon that had hurt him. More like… He was giving the dragon back to Yoongi.

Yoongi wasn’t surprised, when Zhou Mi stepped up beside him. He looked down at Zhou Mi’s hand, half expecting to see it covered in the powder from his dreams, but all he saw was one gleaming ring.

“It’ll be light soon,” Zhou Mi said. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

He didn’t feel prepared, and had never felt more prepared in his life.

“You held up your promise,” Yoongi said, as Zhou Mi pulled back the door.

“And I would again,” Zhou Mi said. “Here.”

Yoongi took the rolled paper on reflex, a flash of power striking his fingers. He didn’t have to look at it, because Zhou Mi was already explaining.

“It’s a promise of assistance or help, unrelated to the pact we hold. As payment, for accidentally causing you a longer healing. Burn it, throw it to the wind, give it to whom you may, but between you and I, this is binding.”

Yoongi could have argued that it wasn’t necessary, but the lift of Zhou Mi’s jaw was stubborn, and his will was iron - not something even a dragon’s breath could melt. And he understood Zhou Mi’s responsibility, in the pact, and the promise. Magic like that was binding. It burned into him like a tattoo, and he nodded, exhaling, stepping out onto the grass where he had landed in pain. He waited for that pain, as he changed, as he felt his wings stretch and strain.

The house was small beneath him by the time he looked back, and Zhou Mi beyond even his eyes. But he felt it there, like a compass point, as he turned with the wind and let his wings take him.

***

There was something among dragons about claiming a place as their own. Not just planting their bodies there and refusing to move, but a sense of peace in a place, and a belonging. It wasn’t something that could be forced, more something born of instinct. It also highly disrupted Yoongi’s attempted return to his normal life. He’d spent days in his own home, and been fine. He’d eaten the food he’d wanted, kept his scars stretched and oiled, and spent two nights in restlessness, a kind of yearning he hadn’t felt since he’d left his childhood home. He valued his solitude. His home was small, but perfectly suited to him. And yet, when he inhaled, he was searching for a different scent. His bed was too firm, his floor too cold.

He was very tired, by the time he gave into the growl inside of him, taking to wing, telling himself he followed the lure of magic and nothing else as he landing soft in the grass.

He nearly pitched face-first into the glass door overlooking Zhou Mi’s garden. It was unlocked, and he didn’t know how he knew that, but he couldn’t trespass. He had no need of being there, no invoking of a pact. The rush of air from inside as Zhou Mi wrested open the door had him inhaling, and he tensed as Zhou Mi stepped up to him.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. The wounds are fine. I’m…tired. I need your couch.”

It sounded ridiculous like that. He’d spent ages moldering on that couch. Zhou Mi led him to it almost without a word, but as Yoongi stretched out on it, Zhou Mi’s hand was immediately on his skin, feeling for fever. It almost felt like he had one, the way he wanted to press into the touch.

“Rest, then,” Zhou Mi said.

Maybe they had a promise of assistance, he thought. He inhaled against the fabric of the couch and told himself that was what he’d returned for, just that. Maybe that was the end of Zhou Mi’s help. A warm blanket covered him a moment after, and he heard Zhou Mi sit down nearby, like he intended to watch Yoongi breathe. Knowing he was there tumbled Yoongi into sleep faster than the warmth.

***

The shop that Yoongi rattled around in for over an hour wasn’t the type of shop he often found himself in. He had a love for things, one that waned a little as he aged, but his main needs were met. Food, shelter. The fact that he shopped for some else was half the problem.

He’d woken disoriented on Zhou Mi’s couch, under a blanket, and half expecting there to be pain when he moved. But he remembered that he was there of his own choosing rather than necessity, and Zhou Mi’s presence still lingered liked he’d just passed by to check to be sure Yoongi was all right. He wandered past the bathroom, pausing in there briefly, before moving by the kitchen. His instinct said leave, but he couldn’t, not without giving Zhou Mi acknowledgement that he’d woken. And finding Zhou Mi wasn’t hard. There was magic afloat, almost like bars of colored music. It was Zhou Mi’s work room, one room he hadn’t been so familiar with, and Zhou Mi’s hands were bright with it, magic. It shimmered over his skin, coloring his exhales. And then it dwindled, from his eyes last as he looked up. HIs eyes, the color of dark honey, darkened to their usual color, and Zhou Mi smiled.

“I hoped to be done with this before you woke. Are you rested?”

“Yes. Thank you. I wanted to let you know I was going.”

Zhou Mi wrapped the glass jar in his hand in a cloth, tucking it inside of a bag and coming around the work table.

“You could stay to eat if you like? Or if not now… You may need to get back. It’s been so quiet after you left! But take this with you. It’ll help you sleep,” Zhou Mi said, tucking the bag into Yoongi’s hands.

He could almost feel the remnants of magic on Zhou Mi’s fingertips. He was sure he’d said thank you, leaving on his own two feet and wondering if he’d actually been rested after all. It wasn’t until he’d gotten home that he realized what Zhou Mi had given him. A candle, infused with magic, to be burned a bit before Yoongi wanted to sleep. It would ease dreams, and aid slumber. Or that was what the little note tucked in said.

And that was why Yoongi was in a shop. A place on a couch for an hour was not fulfillment of Zhou Mi’s bargain with him, but it was a sort of favor. And it was not one that could be unanswered. Since the option of offering Zhou Mi his own couch was unlikely to be met with acceptance, he chose another route. He was just ignoring his choice, was why it took so long. His fingers kept going back to them, touching them, making sure they were right. And they were, and they were wrapped, and it was how he stood for a third time at Zhou Mi’s door.

“For you,” Yoongi said, pushing out the package in its plain brown paper nearly before Zhou Mi had fully opened the door.

He knew what they were, and half turned away, watching with parted lips as Zhou Mi uncovered his gift. They were two wooden spoons, since he’d seen the ones in Zhou Mi’s work room were scarred, scorched on the edges.

“I don’t know how much magic is in spoons,” Yoongi explained. “But they said they were the best kind of wood to have. Maybe of use.”

“Of great use!” Zhou Mi said. “They are beautiful! Will you help me put them in with the others? I think… They’ll like knowing where they came from.”

If spoons could be beautiful? He supposed. He’d slept, with Zhou Mi’s candle, and well. But he truly relaxed, when the door shut behind him. And they had some kind of funeral for the old spoons, as the others replaced them.

“There,” Zhou Mi said. “A little part of dragon magic will reside in this and touch every bit of magic they are used in now.”

It sounded almost like Zhou Mi was pleased. And Yoongi leaned a little harder back against the doorway, lips curving, because in the face of Zhou Mi’s smile, it was hard to feel any other way.

***

Yoongi was unimpressed by the raven that pecked on his window - more from the time than anything. It was only nine, but it seemed like earlier as he squinted and opened the latch.

“Yoongi,” the raven said, and turned and flew, leaving a small bag on his sill.

Yoongi didn’t even have to touch the bag to know where it had originated. Did he have ravens with magic landing at his house every day? No. There were only so many magic-affiliated people he knew. Inside the rough jute bag was a flat and round lidded container than was still hot. On top of it, a sticky note that read, “Good morning! The spoons do well for other things, too.”

There was no signature, but Yoongi knew what was in the container, too. A sticky, barely sweet rice Zhou Mi had made him for breakfast more than once during his recovery. Smelling it, he could smell Zhou Mi’s home. It was woven into the jute, the plastic, the note.

“Damn you,” he muttered, but he already had the container halfway to his mouth.

The spoons had been hard enough, and he was left with yet another belonging of Zhou Mi’s. The candle holder had been part of the gift, so he didn’t worry about that. But the plastic mocked him through the morning, an empty vessel waiting for filling. It hadn’t been a gift looking for reciprocity, again, the spoons had been their reward and Zhou Mi was sharing in it. But it shifted as he thought, following his nose and easing out in the garden. Outside of the window where the raven landed was a flowering honeysuckle vine, and it felt right. He plucked blossoms, carefully transferring them into the clean container, filling it full and sealing it. It went back into the jute bag, and Yoongi took a chance, looking up.

“Hey, raven!” he half shouted.

His neighbors wouldn’t be concerned. He was sure they’d heard worse.

And maybe it was the same raven, and maybe it wasn’t, but he heard the flap of wings and there was a bird looking none-too-impressed as it stared at him from the fence.

“Take this back to Zhou Mi. Please,” Yoongi said, holding out the bag.

The raven stared at him for a moment more before taking the bag, and taking flight.

“This can’t continue,” Yoongi said, as he watched the raven fly away. Though that wasn’t true. He touched his side, and didn’t know how exactly it could.

***

Yoongi opened his eyes, blanket warm over his shoulders. His room was dark, as he liked it, but his heart picked up realizing there was someone beside him on the bed. But alarm settled, as he met Zhou Mi’s eyes.

“This isn’t real,” Zhou Mi said, his voice soft, like he’d just woken from sleep.

Yoongi knew that, in some way. He shouldn’t have been able to see Zhou Mi in the dark, if it was. A dream, then.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened. But it’s good to see you,” Zhou Mi said.

Yoongi shrugged out of his blanket, turning a little more to face Zhou Mi directly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it.”

“You’re burning the candle?”

“Mmm. It seems to be working.”

“Good.” They fell into silence for a long moment, breathing nearly in sync. “When you were hurt, I’d rest like this next to you. In case you needed anything.” Though Zhou Mi laughed a little, shaking his head and pressing his fingers to Yoongi’s side. “And then I injured you, too.”

“I had to be alive to be hurt,” Yoongi said. He could feel the touch somehow, like a strange glow that intimated pressure. It was quiet, and secure, like the hazy times had been back then, only without the pain, the confusion. He’d never been afraid with Zhou Mi. Even if he could still smell the comfort of the couch, something central to Zhou Mi.

“Did you get the honeysuckle?”

“I did,” Zhou Mi said. “I can smell it right now. Thank you.”

Yoongi jerked a shoulder, glad at least the raven hadn’t flipped him off and dropped the bag in the middle of a road somewhere. He reached, but Zhou Mi’s arm was no more solid to him than anything else. Just warmth, a faint hint of something there but not.

“What is this?” Zhou Mi asked, and Yoongi knew he didn’t mean the touch on his side, or the moment they were sharing.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi said. He didn’t know. Every time he tried to puzzle it, he came into a dead-end, and more questions. Denials, maybe. Wanting things he thought he shouldn’t, that he wasn’t sure of even being true.

But when Zhou Mi pushed up onto an elbow, eyes so dark as to be inscrutable and his hand still on Yoongi’s side, Yoongi’s head tilted with him, watching him. And when Zhou Mi leaned in, paused, breathed, Yoongi lifted his head, seeking, closing his eyes as Zhou Mi eased even closer.

Instead of the warm brush of a mouth against his, he inhaled, Zhou Mi’s presence disappearing like fine sand. His mind turned, disorienting him for a moment before he could make out a frame on the wall. His bed, his room, dark, and alone in it. What it was, he didn’t know, and what it had been, he didn’t know that either. But what he hadn’t expected: that it would bring Zhou Mi to his door.

***

Yoongi rarely had visitors. Dragons, they had a different way of doing things. The ones he did have were invited, pre-planned. It was his space, his castle, even if it was a tiny freestanding house in an old part of the city, with only enough yard for him to land in dragon form - and barely. So a knock was an occurrence, and standing on the other side of the door, Yoongi knew before he touched the knob who stood behind it. And it was Zhou Mi, standing on the stoop, rain dripping off of a sodden-looking coat, and an umbrella at his side. He looked, from the damp face and curl to the front of his hair, like he’d been out in the rain for hours.

“Hi,” Zhou Mi said a little sheepishly.

“Did you forget you were a wizard and not a selkie?” Yoongi asked. “Come in.”

The umbrella was set to dry, and the coat was as wet as Yoongi imagined as he hung it over his tub. When he’d come back out, Zhou Mi’s shoes actually squelched when he took them off, and Yoongi clucked.

“Get those socks off, too, and get these slippers on.” 

He was probably cold to the bone. Yoongi took him in to the interior room, closed for privacy. His “den” as it was. With the rain, a fire was burning, and Zhou Mi’s slippers scuffed on the floor as he squatted in front of him, fanning his hands out in obvious pleasure. Nothing he had was going to be large enough, but he retrieved a towel, pajama pants and a large shirt, an oversized sweater, and socks. He deposited them next to Zhou Mi and gave him a look.

“I’ll be right back,” Yoongi said. He had soup he’d made the day before, pouring it into a pan and setting it to heat. From the kettle he had perpetually on, he poured a cup of hot water, letting his hand guide him to a tea packet. It steeped as he glared it down, wondering what he was supposed to do with a wizard suddenly and unexpectedly in his space. He’d been in Zhou Mi’s space. They had a pact. And it still unsettled him.

Zhou Mi was appropriately covered in dry cloth by the time Yoongi and the tea returned. The clothes he wrung out, putting them in the dryer and returning to sit in a chair and consider the conundrum in front of him. A man in his space, with one of Yoongi’s oversized earthenware mugs in his hands, with a towel draped over his head.

“Do you enjoy pneumonia?” Yoongi wondered.

“I don’t,” Zhou Mi said with some humor. The pajama pants were just shy of looking like capris on him, and Yoongi refused to be insulted. “I’m sorry to show up like this. I went for a walk to clear my head.”

“In the rain,” Yoongi interjected.

“It wasn’t raining so hard then, but yes.” And Zhou Mi paused for a moment, taking another drink. “This is good tea. The problem with rain is that the wind came up, and it started sheeting under the umbrella. And then all of me was wet, and I was… I walked further than I meant to.”

“Taxis?” Yoongi offered.

Zhou Mi grimaced. “I didn’t bring my phone. And by the time I realized how miserable the weather and I was, I realized where I’d been absently wandering. I could smell your honeysuckle.”

Of course he could. It was hardly life or death. Their agreement wouldn’t be null because of it. And yet, there was a satisfaction in helping. And the antsy feeling wasn’t so much that there was a human in his space. It was the particular human. He slipped out, pouring the soup into mugs for both of them and returning with them.

“I’m not a chef, but it’ll warm you,” Yoongi said, handing it to him. Something to chase the tea, anyway.

He didn’t look quite so wan, or quite so damp. The towel had fallen around his shoulders, instead of stiff with cold, he’d relaxed. He didn’t spit the soup out either, drinking deeply as Yoongi sipped his own.

“It’s good,” Zhou Mi said.

“I ran out of mustard seed, so no eye of newt in this batch,” Yoongi said.

“You’re not supposed to know about that!” Zhou Mi fussed, laughing, and turning to Yoongi. The fire lit his eyes strangely, like that time he’d been filled with magic and finishing Yoongi’s candle. An inner amber glow. “I am sorry. I wouldn’t have wanted to invade your privacy like this, though to be honest with you, I probably couldn’t retrace my steps. If I’d had other options, I’d have turned back. And this is the second time now.”

Referring to the dream? Yoongi shook his head. “It wasn’t on purpose. And I suppose I’m to blame also, with a gift from this place. No one knows the peculiar nature of wizards.”

“Truly,” Zhou Mi said. “It’s a beautiful room.”

It was his. His sanctuary. Few had entered it, and certainly no wizards. The dryer buzzed, and Yoongi ignored it, finishing his soup and setting aside his mug. He wasn’t a huge believer in fate, some things were molded by choice, others by circumstance. But he also didn’t believe Zhou Mi lied, and if there was anything he knew, it was that magic was unpredictable.

“Now you’ll know the way,” Yoongi said.

“Will you want me to follow it?” Zhou Mi asked.

Had it truly been the couch that he’d returned to Zhou Mi’s home for? He had a couch. His home smelled of comfort. The quiet, when his own home was quiet. There was no wizard laughing from another room there. Not until that day, anyway.

“I think so,” Yoongi said as he slowly stood out of his arm chair. Whether that brought Zhou Mi back again or not, Yoongi didn’t know. What he did know was that Zhou Mi had risen to meet him as though he could feel Yoongi’s intent. Or maybe it was something that was just inevitable. Zhou Mi caught him by the shoulder with one hand, the other curling behind Yoongi’s head, and finding Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi had seen Zhou Mi be soft, be confident. He’d experienced both in touches meant to be healing. It was something else entirely to experience it in want. That curling tension, awareness, it had culmination that instead of resolving that want, only expanded it. Maybe the kisses would’ve just been a connection - certainly not friendly but a connection, feeling each other out - but what rose it to that was a sound. The sound, in fact, of Zhou Mi’s startled little moan as Yoongi’s teeth skimmed his lip. It took him from languishing in some kind of haze, straight up through to arousal.

Zhou Mi was definitely no longer cold. And if he had been, Yoongi would have warmed him. He tugged Zhou Mi to him, with him, fascinated by Zhou Mi followed and met him with every step, every touch. It was only the wall that stopped him, and it straightened up his spine, his arms tightening around Zhou Mi’s body, skin humming with every kiss, and the purr as Zhou Mi’s body pressed to his. They took advantage of that stability, adjusting closer, winding fast until it felt like the heat from Zhou Mi’s body was stronger than from the fire. Zhou Mi kissed like he was hungry for it, but it was pleasure, not pain. Lips swollen, sensitive, and that wasn’t an isolated phenomenon. He’d have let Zhou Mi do anything he wanted to him right there, climbed him like a tree to facilitate it, and yet, Zhou Mi seemed to want something other than that. Zhou Mi didn’t have all that many clothes to shed, and yet, as they staggered into Yoongi’s room at Yoongi’s direction, Zhou Mi seemed more focused on getting Yoongi to shed his. Stepping over puddles of cloth, face smarting for the half second it took to fling away his shirt and find Zhou Mi’s mouth again. It wasn’t as though his bed was some sacred place, but Yoongi was selective who saw it, much less who kissed him all the way onto it.

“Is there sex magic?” Yoongi wanted to know, asking in the beats between kisses, and felt the puff of a laugh before Zhou Mi settled over him.

“There’s magic for everything. But we won’t need it.”

Confidence. Confidence was attractive. So was Zhou Mi, with his hair still a little damp between Yoongi’s fingers, kissing like Yoongi’s presence and contact were somehow essential to life. Feeling how hard he was made Yoongi want to arch for more. So he did, feeling the soft moans turn desperate as Yoongi leaned how to draw them. It was like plunging into heat, guiding Zhou Mi’s hand down his thigh and moaning as Zhou Mi took his lead. It was too much, had been too long since he’d been touched by anyone, much less sexually. And Zhou Mi’s assuredness was really, really doing it for him. The fingers that Zhou Mi pressed into him were slick, even though Zhou Mi hadn’t moved. And it was like Zhou Mi could see the tease coming.

“Convenience magic,” Zhou Mi corrected him before he could say anything. Not sex magic.

It made him wonder if Zhou Mi could just make his dick slick, too, but that curiosity wasn’t nearly as important as actually getting it inside of him.

“Fuck,” Yoongi said. And it was part complaint, part admiration, part demand.

“Fuck,” Zhou Mi conversationally agreed, as Yoongi was doing his level best to work those fingers deeper. But Zhou Mi wasn’t immune to touches either, Yoongi finding exactly just what he wanted. The curse that time was said with a little more urgent energy, making Yoongi grin as they stroked each other.

“Going to need to be plenty slick for this,” Yoongi said. He felt the snort from that flattery but knew they both knew he wasn’t really joking. He felt like a candle beginning to melt and puddle, lost between kisses, between Zhou Mi’s mouth on his neck, fingers inside of him. His patience was on the verge of sputtering out. “Don’t be a tease, wizard.”

Zhou Mi huffed a laugh against his cheek. “Just anticipating. Here.”

They shifted together, Yoongi exhaling hard at Zhou Mi’s fingers leaving him, and inhaling harder at him guiding Zhou Mi against him. Definitely…thicker, definitely slick, and Yoongi gripped at Zhou Mi’s side when it was clear he didn’t need any more help. But it seemed like the deeper Zhou Mi got, the further he lowered until he was practically flattening Yoongi and they were giggling stupidly against each other.

“I just want to be close,” Zhou Mi teased.

“Interesting technique you have there,” Yoongi said. It took his mind off the feeling of being stretched, for a little bit anyway. The second Zhou Mi shifted, it all came roaring back. Zhou Mi seemed to be probing, hips shifting as he found Yoongi’s mouth. He kissed at the same speed his body moved, confusing Yoongi’s brain that wanted faster, more urgent. But his startled moan as they shifted together, that seemed to be what Zhou Mi was looking for. Literally looking for, then, watching Yoongi’s face, making him feel so exposed and yet, secure.

He wasn’t sure how Zhou Mi did that, how he made Yoongi feel like that. Yeah, sure, he was performing miracles with his body, but it was more than that. It was like it cocooned them. Nothing more important than what was happening on that bed, not just a desperate fuck. Zhou Mi’s presence bigger than his physical size. Though that was…impressive, to say the least. He forgot how much he missed sex until he had someone in his bed, and even that wasn’t it. There was a difference between sex, and great sex.

“More,” Yoongi demanded.

Fuck, fuck. The heat was so much he almost couldn’t bear it. He’d become one giant throb, just a tremble on an edge, fueled by the enjoyment dripping through Zhou Mi’s moans. The utter decadence of it, poised as Zhou Mi stroked him, enjoyed him.

“Yes,” Zhou Mi said, as Yoongi began to tense. It seemed pathetic that that was what did it for him, that one word of affirmation. But it was. Covered up, filled up by a wizard. Coming for him. All that came out of his mouth were curses, strings of encouragements, stuttered demands as Zhou Mi uttered his name, groaning, his hips driving as Yoongi did his best to hang on, eyes almost crossing as Zhou Mi bent him further. He didn’t even know how to describe it other than a glow sweeping over his skin, making him shudder as Zhou Mi moaned. It almost felt like coming, only it definitely wasn’t _him_ , and lacked the feeling of overstimulation from coming too soon. Still, it startled him, hanging on as Zhou Mi’s hips continued rolling as he enjoyed the last of his pleasure.

And still after all that as Zhou Mi nearly had stilled, his brain still hadn’t conjured how to ask.

“Was that… Did I feel you get off?” If that was what feeling someone else’s orgasm was like in the magic world, he had to say, he was a fan. Zhou Mi was heavy, though he felt as pinned by the stare, all of Zhou Mi’s messy hair and dark eyes. Satisfied eyes.

“I think so,” Zhou Mi said.

“Felt good.”

“To me too,” Zhou Mi said.

The kiss was choppy, a little messy, as Zhou Mi was still catching his breath. He could feel how Zhou Mi’s heart was beating, tugging Yoongi with him so they were more comfortable, side by side. He stroked a hand lazily down Zhou Mi’s chest as Zhou Mi wrangled the sheet for them. Even if the air was warm, his skin was pebbling.

“Why are you so hot?” Yoongi complained. Praised. Whichever.

“Am I?”

Zhou Mi sounded almost hopeful, and Yoongi’s attempt at smacking him failed.

“Don’t be greedy.”

The laugh was almost too easy considering how recently they’d settled. Zhou Mi pressed a kiss to his cheek while still chuckling, and Yoongi half froze. He’d almost been fucked into oblivion, but it was that action that set his ears on fire? Though speaking of hot adjacent meanings, after they shifted again, it was too warm, sweaty, sticky, damp, and yet still, Yoongi wasn’t moving. The sheet was all the protection he needed, with Zhou Mi’s arm over his waist, soft little puffs of a nearly sleeping man. They’d slept beside each other when Yoongi had been the most out of it, but even sick he’d remembered that presence, the intensity of it, needing to get space before it consumed him. The intensity hadn’t lessened, but instead of being alarmed by it then, it drew him. He knew Zhou Mi better. And his own reaction. 

He intended to give some kind of verbal okay for Zhou Mi to stay, but it seemed like he was the one who fell asleep first.

***

Zhou Mi was not, Yoongi was unsurprised to learn, averse to cuddling. After getting up once in the night, Zhou Mi had clearly waited for him, letting Yoongi pick his position. Zhou Mi’s shoulder, which made it a good pillow. He’d woken on another adjustment, ending up plastered against Zhou Mi’s back. That was how he woke at some morning-type of hour, to Zhou Mi coming awake. Yoongi didn’t even bother opening his eyes most of the way, but Zhou Mi sure did turn, wrapping around him with a satisfied sigh. He felt that. And he almost braced himself waiting for the need for distance. It didn’t come, even when Zhou Mi muttered an apology for morning breath. Whatever, he had that, too, plus a man who was doing a good job of nuzzling Yoongi’s face.

“Good morning,” Zhou Mi said.

Mornings, short of a very few, were rarely great because of the whole waking up thing. But good he could compromise on. “Good morning,” he agreed.

If it was possible for someone to wiggle cutely, Zhou Mi certainly tried, keeping Yoongi from sinking back into sleep.

“Do you have food?”

“I don’t exist on the scent of petunias,” Yoongi said.

“A fair point,” Zhou Mi said, lifting up and propping himself on an elbow as he considered Yoongi’s face. “I thought I’d make you something to eat. A thanks for a place to sleep.”

“I thought you thanked me already,” Yoongi said. “Did you not get enough of taking care of me when I was hurt?”

It was a peculiar kind of smile that had the skin puckering on Yoongi’s arms. “Apparently not.”

Yoongi didn’t know what to do with that, making a clicking sound, pushing at Zhou Mi’s arm. “Yes, fine. Anything out there is fine to eat. Nothing dangerous like in your kitchen.”

Zhou Mi bussed his cheek, and swung out of the bed far too energetically for Yoongi’s preference. He got his head approximately where Zhou Mi’s had been and dozed, coming back into wakefulness slowly to the sound of a clear voice softly singing and humming from what he assumed was the kitchen. Yoongi blinked, staring in his new direction.

Zhou Mi’s underwear was hanging from a lamp.

It was one of those two things that had Yoongi smiling. But it was the promise of food that had him getting up and getting a robe out of his closet, loosely belting it and still feeling partially uncovered. The sound of something frying - eggs, he was pretty sure - hit him before the smell, and though he hadn’t been hungry before, it made his mouth water. Zhou Mi was in front of his stove, shirtless though in pants. The long lines of his back were unspoiled, and Yoongi’s scar almost itched looking at it. Though two steps closer, he did see one scar along Zhou Mi’s side, maybe two inches long, and long healed.

“You didn’t have to put on pants for me,” Yoongi said, sidling up halfway behind Zhou Mi, half beside him.

Zhou Mi glanced askance at him, a spatula in his hand.

“I have magic at home that keeps anyone from seeing in. I draw the line at performing that magic elsewhere without permission, and I didn’t figure any unsuspecting neighbors should suffer for it.”

“Yeah, suffer,” Yoongi said, looking Zhou Mi up and down until Zhou Mi bumped at him with his arm, shaking the pan to shuffle the eggs and vegetables around in it. “Smells good.”

“I hope so. I just went by what might sound good, and what I knew you’d seemed to like. Though, after going through that thought, I also figured you probably wouldn’t have a bunch of food you didn’t like.”

“That’s true. You want something to drink? I have juice.”

“Yes, please,” Zhou Mi said.

Between the juice, and Zhou Mi plating the food, they ended up back in front of the fire. It’d burned mostly down overnight, but Yoongi added some wood before sitting to eat, humming as he took a bite that was a little too hot.

“Good,” he said through a mouth still full.

“Could you even taste it?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at Zhou Mi, taking another bite and satisfying the growl in his belly. Just enough salt, vegetables with a little bite, creamy eggs. His next eye roll was because he was enjoying himself and not because Zhou Mi was teasing him.

“Forgot how much I enjoyed your cooking.”

Then he had to wait for Zhou Mi swallow. “Well. You know where to find it. And how to get me here to cook for you.”

“Come for the sex, stay for the food,” Yoongi said.

“For. From,” Zhou Mi said, shrugging and making Yoongi snort.

“Sounds like the beginning of a joke. A wizard gets lost and finds a dragon. Though as fastidious as wizards seem to be, I bet they wouldn’t be very happy about that. Did anyone lecture you for helping me?”

“Lecture? Not in so many words. I didn’t advertise it, for your privacy as well as mine. Besides the help I received taking care of you, she was the only person I told.” There was a hesitation, like Zhou Mi was mulling his next words. “Though last night, there are some who might not be so thrilled.”

“How would they know?” Yoongi asked. “Unless you ‘advertise’ it.”

Maybe just put a poster on his front door. _Sex with dragon last night! It was great!_ Zhou Mi finished his next bite before answering.

“It’ll be advertised a little, whether we want it to be or not. Even with you being born with less inherent magic, in intimate contact, there’s a bit of a sharing of essence that happens,” Zhou Mi said. And he didn’t even bat an eye when Yoongi snorted. Fine, he’d be the immature one. “Though, the effect is temporary. Auras are always in flux, even just based on mental state. So for now, yes, someone could tell I’d been in proximity to a dragon.”

“Or to a dragon’s essense. So, I’m like a room spray to your aura. Here today, fading before you can get nose-blind to it.”

“Something like that. It’ll linger, in a subtle way,” Zhou Mi said.

“And some of your people wouldn’t look kindly on fraternization.”

“Most wouldn’t care. Much like the dragon you fought, some wizards are…territorial. In a ridiculous way.”

“That would be ridiculous,” Yoongi said. “We’re unlikely to propagate the earth with little wizard-dragons, unless there’s some other magic I’m unaware of.”

Zhou Mi put his empty plate on the table in front of them, picking up his cup in exchange. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was somewhere.”

Magic was magic, he guessed. “Do you know all this from communal knowledge? Or did something happen?”

“That was the lecture that wasn’t. It was some not-so-friendly advice from them, after I helped you. I reminded them of the pact, but logic has little place in matters like these.”

“How many is a ‘them?’ One? A hundred? And so what’s this, a middle finger to the warning? Fuck you, and I’m fucking the dragon, too?”

“Just one. Though one is enough. I didn’t look kindly on it, since the pact meant there should be no criticism anyway.” With a sigh, Zhou Mi hooked his leg over Yoongi’s, like he was able to assure him a little bit somehow. “And I don’t bring it up to cause you worry. If they have anything to say, it’ll be to me not to you.”

“That’s if they hold to convention,” Yoongi said, his foot twitching as much as his tail might have. “People don’t always stick to that if their hard rules of life are threatened.”

That did get a reaction, a clenching of the jaw, and Zhou Mi leaning toward him. “They wouldn’t dare. Not for one wizard. Not to break a peace.”

He wished he had that much faith, but he also understood Zhou Mi’s belief in standards that he himself adhered to. Until that faith was broken, he imagined Zhou Mi would keep believing.

“Then maybe I’ll worry less for myself and more for you. You wouldn’t bring it up if it wasn’t on your mind.”

“I’ll be careful. My mentor is aware. And while maybe she does not understand fully, she also understands there is no rhyme to magic or to connections within it.”

It wasn’t magic that threw them in bed together, nor the pact itself. But there was no denying a connection had been forged by or around it, one way or another.

“I could get used to magic, I guess,” Yoongi said, patting Zhou Mi’s knee.

There was a flirt in Zhou Mi’s eyes as he lifted his hand, palm up. Yoongi leaned forward, watching with fascination as a tiny flame was conjured there. It flickered, dancing, forming, until a tiny dragon fluttered above Zhou Mi’s hand. With a wiggle of his fingers, it flew toward Yoongi’s delighted face, flickering there, swirling around his head before hovering up in the air. With a quiet snap of Zhou Mi’s fingers, it burst into a shower of sparkles that fell like snow. It sparked a memory.

“That’s amazing,” Yoongi said, still staring up where the dragon had just been, “When I was staying with you, I had a dream of you doing magic. Not quite like that, but similar, a dragon of some magic dust flying at me. Like you were letting me know I had my wings back.”

“Really! I didn’t have a dream, though I definitely woke up with a feeling, so maybe I was experiencing part of that, too,” Zhou Mi said. He stroking a finger down Yoongi’s cheek, warmer than the fire he’d conjured. “When you left, I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

“Lucky you,” Yoongi said a little wryly. And Zhou Mi was laughing, and agreeing with him, as Yoongi hiked up his robe more or less flapped into Zhou Mi’s lap like a bat. He couldn’t just _say_ he’d been afraid of not seeing Yoongi again like that, with that twist of regret. It wasn’t that he kissed Zhou Mi to reassure him. It was almost a reassurance to himself.

Zhou Mi’s clothes might’ve been a little more wrinkled when he left, though considerably more dry. Since he didn’t have his phone, Yoongi had to write his address on some ancient piece of paper to tuck in Zhou Mi’s pocket, and sent Zhou Mi off in a taxi so he wouldn’t get lost on his way home. He trusted Zhou Mi was a competent adult, and yet, maybe he needed a little taking care of. He was finding himself okay with that.

***

Zhou Mi, by nature of having his number, was the one who texted first. It was mostly a perfunctory text, letting Yoongi know he’d made it home (dry), and thanking him for the hospitality. Literally thanking him for the hospitality, followed by sun and smiley emojis. He might have, just a little, laughed his ass off. It was stupidly charming, and entirely revealing. Though, the fact that he’d let Zhou Mi into his home and into his bed spoke maybe louder than that. Zhou Mi was a sporadic texter, sending a picture of his garden one day, asking about the status of Yoongi’s the next. They had conversations about what they were eating - often Zhou Mi’s sounding more appealing than his, but that was the way of food it seemed.

He didn’t think it was only the food, though. Other times Zhou Mi was responding to a text from Yoongi, not quite as interesting. He didn’t have any fancy magic items, and most of his garden grew wild without much intervention on his part. And his pictures were not quite as artistic as Zhou Mi’s breezy, seemingly effortless shots of himself, but he wouldn’t have known it from Zhou Mi’s appreciative responses. He’d never seen a grown man coo by text at the sight of his face. Felt kind of nice actually. And maybe the thought of feeling nice had him glancing out at the waning light.

_Has my essence faded from your aura yet?_

Dots indicating Zhou Mi was replying popped up before Yoongi could grow self-conscious and start to tap away.

_It’s starting to! :(_

The sad smiley was really the icing on the cake.

 _Maybe we should do something about that._ And Yoongi sent that before deciding he wasn’t going to make Zhou Mi ask for it, when he was the one making the suggestion. _Want some company?_

_Now? Give me fifteen minutes to clean!_

_Now is fine if it works for you. It’ll take me that long to fly there at least._

_Fly safe! I’ll have the door unlocked for you!_

Yoongi shook his head. Fly safe? He could hear Zhou Mi say that in his head, and it only hurried him out onto the grass, looking up to the sky for a moment before letting his dragon form come over him. No one was going to look up and see a dragon flying. Maybe he had little magic, but camouflage was a speciality. Someone looking would see little more than ripples in the sky. No crashes or rubberneckers caused between his house and landing in Zhou Mi’s back yard. Just Zhou Mi, sitting on the edge of his deck and watching Yoongi land. When he stood up, human again, Zhou Mi stood with him.

“I don’t think seeing that will ever get old,“ Zhou Mi said.

Stepping up to him, Yoongi tapped Zhou Mi’s chin. “Seeing this hasn’t gotten old yet either.”

“Good,” Zhou Mi said. He almost seemed to sway towards Yoongi for a moment before thinking better of it. “Come in?”

At his sound of assent, Zhou Mi took his hand, squeezing it as he tugged Yoongi with him onto the deck and into the house. The familiar scent washed over him first, some kind of comforting. They could’ve gone any number of ways, but Zhou Mi led him to the long couch.

“Sure you didn’t come for a nap?”

Yoongi snorted. He was never going to live that one down. “Not unless you’re involved.”

Though it didn’t seen like Zhou Mi was all that interested in sleeping either, not the way they kissed as Zhou Mi sank down onto the cushions. Kind of slanted, tugging Yoongi with him. Yoongi was the one who pinned Zhou Mi’s shoulders down, but it was Zhou Mi who looked sly and satisfied. Maybe sly wasn’t the right word. Maybe pleased was more like it, like he had Yoongi right where he wanted him.

“Is this what this couch is supposed to be used for?” Yoongi asked.

“It has many uses. But I’m liking this one.”

He didn’t know if kissing led to the mixing of auras, too, but they were doing all of their best to try. If they’d been up to all of that, he probably never would’ve healed. But it was infinitely a better time than being feverish and in pain. Maybe auras sank into furniture, too.

***

There was some cleanup and straightening of clothes that happened after getting reacquainted with each other on the couch. Definitely enough for aura-marking, if they were counting.

“You caught me in the middle of finishing a project,” Zhou Mi said, leading Yoongi into the depths of the house.

Though Yoongi had been in Zhou Mi’s workshop when he’d stayed there and when’d brought the spoons, it still felt unfamiliar and bizarre. There were shelves upon shelves, Yoongi looking around with curiosity. The organized jars, a corner he hadn’t noticed with a stack of assorted pots. Beakers, tubes, magical symbols painted on the walls, or fashioned out of sticks and plants. Protections, he assumed, as he touched the surface of the table. It had multiple surfaces, a stone top over half, smooth wood on the rest.

“Different materials helps sometimes,” Zhou Mi said, seeing him looking at it. “It depends on what I’m doing, how I’m preparing, what kind of methods. All of it is connected to nature in one way or another, but there’s a…feel to it, I suppose.”

“Do you let people observe?”

He’d obviously done his little fire trick where Yoongi could see, but he didn’t suppose Zhou Mi did that often in the confines of the work room. Did he have customers? He didn’t imagine all wizards did magic for profit.

“If I trust them,” Zhou Mi said, before Yoongi could get too far in his wondering. Zhou Mi turned behind him, picking up an empty container and unstopping it. “I do have a project started. Invisibility potion.”

Yoongi stepped forward, but Zhou Mi’s utter lack of a poker face made Yoongi huffed. “You almost had me.”

“It’s not anything as cool as that. It’s actually a base I use for other things. I have a lot of…” Zhou Mi pulled out three other bottles from under the table. “A lot of projects that use it, so I go through quite a bit.”

“I can see that. Is it all…spells? Ingredients?”

“Some of both. Magic typically comes from something. Not just power, or even really ingredients, but from the world we live in. Like we couldn’t create a mountain where nothing had ever been.”

“But given enough motivation, you could move one?” Yoongi asked.

Zhou Mi flashed him an approving smile. “Exactly. Even if it was in increments. All right. Where was I?”

For a moment, Zhou Mi looked at the table in front of him as though he’d never seen anything there before in his life. But that look faded almost immediately, like he had centered himself. The stone on his ring began to glow as his hands spread over the bottles. Words that Yoongi couldn’t understand were said with authority, a feeling of power that was more than a veneer. It felt like static in the air as the liquid in the three bottles Zhou Mi had brought out seemed to shimmer, twisting, lifting, and slowly moving to fill up the empty one. It wasn’t any kind of lurid color, nothing wildly purple or orange, but it definitely had some kind of magic feel. Maybe because he’d seen it. Or because he could feel it.

“Wow,” Yoongi said, staring at the new potion of whatever kind Zhou Mi had made. And a thought crossed his mind. “Does that have some of my essense in it, too?”

The expressiveness of Zhou Mi’s eyebrows raising was a continual amusement. “I can’t see why it wouldn’t be. Come here, let’s test it.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure what “testing” it entailed, but as Zhou Mi reeled him in, it definitely seemed to involve kissing. Zhou Mi curling down to him, instead of making Yoongi crane, kissing with just as much knowledge as he’d gathered from their encounters.

“There,” Zhou Mi said, pleased, and confused Yoongi for a second before he realized that Zhou Mi’s free had had been wrapped around his potion. “I infused it with a little more magic.”

“Kissing magic?” Yoongi asked.

“I think it may be. What does it smell like?”

It was clear and faintly blue, but there was a strange mix of raspberries and honeysuckle, and more than that he couldn’t identify.

“More than just an essence,” Yoongi said.

“That’s—”

Yoongi’s stomach decided that moment to let out a loud growl, and Zhou Mi’s words choked off into loud laughter as Zhou Mi rocked them both.

“I need to feed you! And the little dragon,” Zhou Mi said, patting at Yoongi’s stomach and leading him to the door. “Oh, it’s dark.”

Magic took longer than he realized. Yoongi hadn’t thought that far ahead. Show up for some fun, take it by ear.

Though Zhou Mi had reeled him back in after they made it to the kitchen.

“Would you like to stay the night?” Zhou Mi asked, kissing against his cheekbone. “I’ve thought about about having you back in my bed. Of your own choice, this time.”

“And not in agony. Wait, you weren’t creeping on me back then?”

“Of course not! I ddin’t really start thinking of you that way until you started giving me your little smiles when I’d cook something for you when you were getting better.”

Yoongi snorted at him, but when they’d made their way to that same bed, he still let Zhou Mi glom onto him like he was a body pillow. Satisfaction of a full belly, an evening of conversation that had never felt forced, and a man who wanted him. A wizard who fell asleep easily against him, having no care that he was a dragon. No worries, not for both of them.

***

It’d been another day before Yoongi had been able to tear himself away, transforming for the second time in front of Zhou Mi. Zhou Mi, who was in pajama pants and bare feet, and likely watching with new perspective. Yeah, that guy he’d just gotten off in his bed an hour earlier was suddenly larger, green, and black, and gold.

“I’ll be in touch,” Yoongi said. He rarely spoke, as a dragon. The rumble of it sounded deeper than his normal voice.

“I hope so,” Zhou Mi said.

He heard the inhale, as his head swung closer. Surprise, not fear, as Zhou Mi’s heartbeat settled immediately. Zhou Mi’s hand stuttered forward, as though he wasn’t sure he should touch, but Yoongi lifted his head in ascent, and there was the soft touch between his nostrils. Just a resting of Zhou Mi’s hand. An acknowledgement.

He didn’t have the same kind of gooseflesh as a dragon than he had as a human, but he could feel it as he vaulted into the air. It was the first time a human had touched him, as a dragon. He’d have wondered what would have inspired him to do that, but he knew. He was drunk on more than a few feelings. Easing around the edges of putting a name on them. Just like enjoying his solitude, he was going to enjoy what they had for what it was. By the time he’d arrived home, he’d mostly quieted his mind. Home was safe, and sanctuary.

***

The dream felt like a dream, which was strange in itself. It wasn’t his home, but Zhou Mi’s. The couch was shadowed, shelves empty. Yoongi moved through the room, dark, voices hitting him askance but no words sinking into his consciousness. He touched a honeysuckle plant, standing tall and growing up out of the boards of the floor, looking up to see the moon through the ceiling. Even if it was solid everywhere else. The light followed him like his own personal spotlight. He was pulled toward Zhou Mi’s work room, glass exploding around him, magic flooding the room, a struggle, a clash, an aura that burned blue and red, and horrible yellow. The magic began to shred in his ears like a violin screeching out of tune, and it flung Yoongi from sleep, contorting in a pain he wasn’t truly feeling but that clung to him in wakefulness like a film of oil. Fear, anger, a burning on his skin that had him gasping, bolt upright as he heard very clearly in his mind Zhou Mi shouting, “No!”

It was no ordinary dream. He had never had any sort of premonitions, and his only connection to magic, the only person connecting him to magic, was at the center of what he felt. He pushed through into his back yard, inhaling, bringing on the change. He was in flight moments after, twisting, skimming in the direction he knew Zhou Mi was in, feeling the magic reaching out to him like tendrils on the wind. It wasn’t normal. Even when he’d been hurt, he’d only felt the magic when he’d been close. Contained. Controlled.

But the closer he got, the more he felt he was being pushed back. Turned back. Yoongi could not stop mid-flight, but the feeling he got slowed his descent, and changed his path. _Go, wait, stay,_ were words he might have put to it. Like there was a feeble, invisible hand pushing on his brain. It reeked of magic, and he aimed for a park, landing there in the cover of darkness. In human form he waited, fingers tapping together, scanning the paths, the sky. An answer came, finally, in the form of a crow. It spat a paper at his feet, hopping several bird-lengths away as though being near Yoongi was disgusting or dangerous.

_I will come to you. Wait for me._

“Okay,” Yoongi told the crow.

“Okay,” it reiterated, and burst into flight.

Corvids. Yoongi grimaced, and settled for the waiting. He knew enough that Zhou Mi could find him, no matter where he was. But it all felt wrong. He sat, for want of doing anything else, but his foot jiggled as he kept watch around him. There had been danger in that dream, and his wariness was on alert. Every shadow, every rustle of leaves, took his attention. But there—

Yoongi did his level best to stay seated as he watched a figure approaching. To maybe any other person on the planet, that walk would’ve been normal. To Yoongi, it all but exuded discomfort.

“What the fuck happened?” Yoongi asked, finally unable to take it and standing as Zhou Mi got closer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to broadcast to you,” Zhou Mi said. And before Yoongi could swipe that away because he really, truly didn’t care in the face of trying to figure out what was happening, Zhou Mi grimaced, stepping forward and letting Yoongi get a hold on his forearm. “Remember when we talked about someone finding out? Apparently I had cause to be worried. The person who warned me learned of our...connection.”

“And so they hurt you? I thought wizards were considered civilized. Tell me that isn’t normal.”

“It isn’t normal. And this will have to be dealt with. My mentor— I’ve sent a note. I don’t know what to do on my own.”

“I do. Tell me who did this, and I’ll eat them,” Yoongi said.

Zhou Mi’s laugh was breathy. A scoff, but gentle.

“I think that would not help the situation at all,” he said. “Though it might be satisfying.”

Satisfying in so many ways.

“Where are you hurt? How bad? Why did you push me away when I was trying to come here earlier?”

“My back. He— He said if I wanted wings so bad, I— Yoongi?”

Yoongi slipped behind him, his hand brushing the fabric over Zhou Mi’s back before the jolt hit him. Pain like an electric snap, and if that was what he felt, what Zhou Mi felt had to have been so much worse. Because of him? Or connected to him. He gripped Zhou Mi’s waist with his hand, closing his eyes and trying to pull it toward himself. Pull it out. He would not hurt because of him. The long-healed scar on his back pulsed, but the sear against his fingertips was dulling.

“Don’t do too much,” Zhou Mi said. “Yoongi.”

Zhou Mi turned, pulling Yoongi gingerly against him.

“Thank you,” Zhou Mi said against his hair. “How did you do that?”

Yoongi shook his head, his brain dull but clearing as they leaned together. Dragons could do that, to a limited extent. If there was a connection between them, it was a help they could share.

Footsteps on concrete made him stiffen, but the fact that Zhou Mi didn’t react kept him from spinning.

“My mentor,” Zhou Mi murmured.

The woman who stood there was warmly dressed, assessing Zhou Mi with a glance.

“The anger aimed at you is no longer a theory,” she said.

Zhou Mi sighed. “No.”

They were introduced, formally that time when Yoongi wasn’t unconscious, and Yoongi greeting Jia with a nod. Maybe his trust extended to Zhou Mi, but it didn’t necessarily extend beyond him. Zhou Mi had mentioned the wizard who’d warned by him and he, and Jia by she, so at least they weren’t one and the same. And yet, it was one different thing to know some faceless danger, and to know instead that Zhou Mi had been hurt.

“A dragon is injured, comes to you, and it leads to this,” Jia said.

“Are you going to tell me I’m the root cause of all of this?” Yoongi asked, wondering if she realized exactly how much work he was doing to prop Zhou Mi up.

Jia’s eyebrow rose. “Did you injure yourself? No, the blame lies elsewhere if there is any. What do you know of the dragon who attacked you?”

Yoongi reminded himself that she had helped him when he was injured, and that she had reason to have that knowledge. “Nothing. They were completely unfamiliar to me.”

“Is that odd? Do you regularly find strange dragons challenging your space?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular thing. There will be the odd stray dragon poking around, but there are few enough of us that most of us are at least known by reputation. Usually takes nothing more than a nudge to send them along. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to fight one off.”

Jia hummed, looking at Zhou Mi for a long moment before looking back to Yoongi. “Did you sense anything off? Did you sense any magic?”

“Magic?” was Yoongi’s first, instinctual, derisive response. But he paused, thinking. There certainly had been no indication of magic. No intrusive aura. Just anger at the intrusion, the challenge. It wasn’t like it used to be, where a dragon could be driven away to find another place to live easily. He’d certainly gotten his own swipes in during the fight, and yet, he stared at his hand as he curled his fingers. He didn’t remember the scent of blood.

“Could the dragon be wounded, but not hurt?” Jia asked.

“Do you read minds, too?” Yoongi asked wryly.

“No, but it’s written all over your face. I don’t like any of this. For this attack… Our “colleague” will need to be brought before the council.”

“What will that do?” Yoongi asked.

“Punishments, concessions, agreements, any of them could be forged. I’m sure the concession he would want would be to sever connections between you.”

“No.”

“No.” Yoongi glanced at Zhou Mi as they both spoke that thought at the same time. “I don’t understand though. If your…theory is right, this wizard attacked me - but that attack drove me to Zhou Mi, what he seemingly hates. A bit like shooting himself in the foot?”

Jia pursed her lips before shaking her head. “Some wizards have the Sight. There were true seers in the past, though not in many generations. Most have what you would call a hunch, a feeling, and so… This is all speculation, but he might have been trying to circumvent the fate he was Seeing.”

“And ended up causing it?”

“Games aren’t to be played with the universe, certainly not for any petty prejudices.”

“Looks like we’re meant to be,” Yoongi said, finally looking at Zhou Mi again. “I still say I could eat him.”

“Maybe the council will agree,” Zhou Mi said, though not truly meaning it.

“I’ll begin the process,” Jia said. “You’ll be safe?”

“He won’t catch me off guard again,” Zhou Mi said.

That seemed to satisfy her, and with a nod at Yoongi, she slipped into the tree line as inconspicuously as she’d come. Yoongi waited what seemed like the optimal time before exhaling.

“Your place or mine?”

When Zhou Mi tugged Yoongi closer against him, he didn’t get much resistance. Not quite like the huddling on the bench had been.

“You’re going to protect me?” Zhou Mi asked him.

“Someone has to.”

Zhou Mi just smiled. “Let’s go then. Hang on.”

And though he told Yoongi to hang on, he was the one who took a healthy grab on Yoongi’s ass. Yoongi barely got his fingers tightened on Zhou Mi’s waist before he felt a head rush, like he’d been flipped upside down, and then suddenly righted. Before he could draw in a gasp of panic, it had passed, and they were standing on the grass of Zhou Mi’s back yard.

“And you decided to freeze in the rain?” Yoongi asked, still half in a daze.

Zhou Mi laughed, kissing the side of his head. “Some things are meant to be. Come in.”

Zhou Mi took and held his hand the whole gingerly-stepped way into the house, while checking his workshop, the other doors. He only let Yoongi go when they were shut into Zhou Mi’s room, and Yoongi was offered the bathroom. Some things were sacred. On his way out, Zhou Mi was waiting, and he could see the mark on Zhou Mi’s back. It wasn’t a gash as Yoongi had had, just a deep red mark along his skin, beside one shoulder blade in eerie reminiscence of where Yoongi’s wound had been. For the pain he’d felt, he’d half expected it to be gushing blood. But magic was curious that way, and cruel. 

“Is there something you can take to soothe it? Something to put on it? I’m assuming an aspirin wouldn’t be very helpful.”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” Zhou Mi said. “I might have something.”

Their fingers curled together almost on instinct, Zhou Mi reaching for him as though he knew Yoongi wasn’t sending him through the house on his own. Even if it wasn’t that large of a house, it felt like a massive empty expanse. They passed the couch, past the kitchen, and into the work room. There’d been a few changes, some reorganization. There was a pot turned over on its side, some bottles scattered.

“Is this where you were hurt?”

“It is,” Zhou Mi said, tugging Yoongi a little deeper. “I’m surprised it didn’t just explode. He wasn’t here, the wizard.”

“So he could hurt you, but you couldn’t hurt him back?”

“He took me off guard. And I might’ve gotten a swipe in,” Zhou Mi muttered. And out of a march of bottles, he pulled up one that, half-full, that seemed to swirl orange and green. “For magical wounds. It should help with healing, and pain.”

“Doesn’t seem to be too much of it. Do you take it internally?”

“Yes, though just a teaspoon at a time. It’s pretty potent. There’s a spoon— Yes, that one,” Zhou Mi said, when Yoongi plucked a spoon out of a holder. Yoongi watched to see if Zhou Mi was going to make a face, or have a puff of smoke emit from his head or something, but he swallowed the brew without any of that. It was capped again, and Zhou Mi indicated he was going to take it with him.

“That’ll help me sleep, I think,” Zhou Mi said.

“Did you take any before coming to meet me? Of course not,” Yoongi said, knowing the answer before Zhou Mi even answered. Zhou Mi turned the light off before taking Yoongi’s hand and leading him back toward the bedroom.

“I was in a little bit of a hurry to find you.”

“You thought he was going to come after me?”

“I had my concerns,” Zhou Mi said. “If I could feel you approaching, he probably could. And if he couldn’t he probably noticed my reaction.”

Climbing into Zhou Mi’s bed wasn’t frantic like getting on his own mattress had been, or full of fever like it had been when he’d been injured, or soft like the last time. On Zhou Mi’s part, he was the one who was moving carefully, but Yoongi finally relaxed when it was clear Zhou Mi was finally settling.

“You don’t think anyone will try and mess up my place?” Yoongi wondered. Sure he could protect Zhou Mi here, but he couldn’t be two places at once.

“It’s had a seal of protection on it since I was there,” Zhou Mi said into his neck.

Yoongi would have rolled his eyes to the sky if he’d been upright, and as it were he rolled them to the wall. Of course Zhou Mi had done that. He didn’t even bother asking why he hadn’t done the same to his own home - the wizard had been invited in. Trusting. Well, not like Yoongi didn’t know that. He had Yoongi in his bed after all.

“Thank you for coming for me,” Zhou Mi murmured.

As if there had been a choice.

“Try to rest,” Yoongi told him.

Zhou Mi said something that might have sounded like “you too” but Yoongi couldn’t catch it. He wasn’t inclined to ask, either, considering he could feel Zhou Mi relaxing. Which was good, for him. It took Yoongi a little longer to get his brain to quiet, knowing if he was vibrating with lagging concern and anger it’d keep Zhou Mi from resting. Zhou Mi was okay. He’d continue being okay. Something would be done about what had happened, or— Something would be done.

***

Whatever Zhou Mi took, it kept him comfortable through the night. There were no more dreams, waking only partially as they shifted together, staying connected like it was the assurance they needed to keep resting. He’d have stayed in bed not moving, except that there was an annoying sound emanating from the bedside table. Zhou Mi tried to turn toward it, and thought better, wincing. So Yoongi got up partway to grab the phone, handing it to Zhou Mi.

“It’s Jia,” Zhou Mi said, his voice sleepy. “The council will meet tonight at midnight, and we’re in no danger. She wants us to meet with her tomorrow.”

Yoongi was grudgingly impressed that it wasn’t going to take them six months to get to dealing with it.

“If they’re meeting, do they not need us there?”

Zhou Mi shook his head, cheerfully snuggling as Yoongi leaned into him. “There was no reason to look into your attack before because there was a reasonable explanation for it. But the record of it exists in the stream of magic, which is more than either of us could attest to.”

“Oh good, they can DVR it,” Yoongi said. “How’s the back?”

“I can feel it,” Zhou Mi said.

“Let me see.”

Yoongi sat himself up, letting Zhou Mi twist over a little, baring his back to Yoongi while draping himself over Yoongi’s legs. The mark was still as stark, but he wondered if he imagined that it had faded a little. It almost did resemble the slash of a talon. He hovered his hand over it, feeling for the discomfort, and pulling it toward himself. It wasn’t screaming like it had been before, but he could still feel it easing.

“And you say you don’t have much magic,” Zhou Mi said. “Does that take something out of you?”

“It brings a little fatigue,” Yoongi said. “Easily shaken off.”

“It doesn’t bring you any pain?”

“I could feel it in my scar, last night. Not like what you felt, though. I don’t know how much of it was because the wounds were created by the same wizard, or because they’re in about the same place.”

Or some fabled personal connection.

“Thank you,” Zhou Mi said.

“Sure. It’s kind of strange thinking I have some fault in this,” Yoongi said, and held down Zhou Mi’s head so that he didn’t have the chance to try and struggle upward and hurt himself. “I’m not talking about like that. I’m blaming him for what happened to you. But the fact that my fight… Some bigot with a not-too-bright seer brain decides to set things in motion that he otherwise couldn’t have explained. I’m not a really big fan of fate. Not having control of my own choices.”

“What if this isn’t what he saw, though?”

“How do you mean?”

Zhou Mi sat up, being easy about it, and turned to him, all torso and considering eyes. “What if this isn’t the fate he saw, though? I mean, I don’t doubt he saw something, but what if… What if he saw you injured with me lying next to you? Or just me helping you. What if he extrapolated wrong from that? And this…you and me…is our own making?”

“So meeting was fate and this wasn’t?” Yoongi considered that for a moment. It wasn’t as though any of it made sense in the end. “It’s absurdly plausible and yet also charming.”

“I think so,” Zhou Mi said. “Plus back when seers were more common, they said what was seen was only one of many possibilities.”

That had Yoongi snorting. “Don’t try and overdo it. You made your point, at least unless we hear differently. Since all we have to do is wait. Mind if I stick around?”

Zhou Mi eased even closer. “You going to protect me?”

“Maybe you’re going to protect me,” Yoongi countered. He had to assume someone either had the wizard in custody or he was being watched. It seemed prudent to stay together, and there was an anxiety to even think of leaving Zhou Mi there alone. Maybe that’d fade, when they had answers.

Though, apparently Zhou Mi had the same idea, tugging Yoongi into a hug.

***

Yoongi didn’t know what he was expecting to meet with Jia after the secretive council meeting. Some kind of strange dungeon, a mystical circle. It was instead a rather plain looking gray building, squat and square on the morning-lit street, and as unassuming as a government building would be. Inside was a little more lively, several people sitting at tables in the room lined by bookshelves, no one gawking at them as they passed, though he could still feel the sensation of being watched. A woman held them up in the hall, and they were let into what looked like a CEO’s office had mated with a sterotypical witch’s study. Sleek computer, modern desk, apothecary jars of unknown fuzz and fronds. It was Jia who greeted them there, encouraging them to sit as she also took a seat near them. Not hiding behind the desk.

“The council met this last eve at midnight, and confirmed all that had happened,” she said. “It was just the one wizard, and the hate of two attacks could not stood for, especially one endangering peace.”

“Did he say what caused it?” Yoongi asked. Not just because of their conversation on fate, but he was genuinely curious.

“The one thing he did say was that he saw connections between dragons and wizards. It seems a lot of his Sight dealt with dragons, so that could explain his familiarity. I still think it was a try to change an outcome that couldn’t be changed. There are some with the sight who don’t See as they should, and instead…. Put themselves where they should not.”

“Attack me, drive me away, but actual drive me to that future.”

“Perhaps. Even if he wouldn’t have known it could cause you to abandon your kind to take a wizard to mate.”

That stole most of the words Yoongi had been mulling, but Zhou Mi was right there with another thing on both of their minds.

“What did the council do to him?”

“If it’s agreeable to you, the wizard who has caused all this will be restricted of his powers for five years, cut off from magic. We want this to be a deterrent for any who would question breaking our peace,” Jia said. ‘He will also be unable to conjure your names, or be near you as long as you live. Or any other dragons, for that matter.”

Jia and Zhou Mi both looked to him. Was he supposed to speak for his whole kind? Or perhaps just for what had happened to himself. But he wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt, and it seemed just convenient to be able to sweep things away. And yet, there was no other fix for it. It couldn’t be broadcasted for the broader world to see. He’d barely even formulated what he wanted. Safety, for certain. Not to wake up in the night to someone else’s pain.

“Zhou Mi explained that the council didn’t need to speak to us?” Yoongi asked. Perhaps he shouldn’t have needed to be so suspicious, but the ways of wizards definitely were not the same as dragons. “Wouldn’t they have wanted to know what we wanted as an outcome?”

“Everyone connected to magic has a presence, and they could feel who caused Zhou Mi’s wound, and because of his connection to you, they…”

Jia paused, as though wondering how to say it.

“They could feel my essence?” Yoongi said wryly, making Zhou Mi not-so-quietly laugh in response.

“Something like that,” Jia said, amused, though also slightly confused. “Some of the punishments are older than we have records of. It’s one of the ways we’ve existed over time without wide discovery. Once it was confirmed, the laws of magic would be followed.”

“Then is asking me if it was agreeable more for formality?”

“A courtesy,” Jia said. “I just want to emphasize that you’ll be safe.”

“I have no objections, then, if that’s what your council felt was safest.” He looked to Zhou Mi, who nodded, agreeing with him. “What’s keeping someone else from doing worse, somene who finds out after instead of before?”

“There are rules that govern these things,” Jia said. With not quite as much unwavering belief as Zhou Mi had had. “Consequences would increase, certainly. Some people fear the world changing. We’ll educate from this end. All you have to do is live your life. And protections?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Zhou Mi said, and stood. “Then we’ll let you know if we have further questions.”

Jia showed them out, and Yoongi exhaled as they were back in what felt like reality with a cloud obscuring some of the light. A seer who could See dragons, who’d used that to call him out, hurt him, hurt— He glanced over at Zhou Mi just as Zhou Mi was looking to him, and nudged him with an elbow. 

“Did you take me as a mate without telling me?” Zhou Mi teased.

Yoongi elbowed him right back, tangling their fingers together before any more violence could happen. “Pretty sure you were involved in the process. Though there’s a little more to it than getting naked.”

“I’d think so. Are you satisfied?”

“As much as I can be. It’s not as though I have control over the outcome. As long as there aren’t a dozen wizards outside my window with pitchforks,” Yoongi said.

“Maybe just one with soup?”

That made him snort as they approached the cross street and stopped. “I could live with that.”

“Good! Where do you want to go from here?”

Yoongi assumed he meant physically, not metaphorically, since they were standing on a street corner. “Home, I think. I know everything is supposed to be settled, but I want to check it.”

“Okay,” Zhou Mi said.

The light changed, and they stepped into the road, Zhou Mi’s hand tight in his. No questioning him. No suggesting. No pleading. Just acceptance of his plans. He used their combined hands to whack Zhou Mi in the hip. Zhou Mi just squeezed his hand, and kept walking with him. It kind of made him think maybe fate didn’t matter, if it brought them to a place they both wanted. He almost opened his mouth to say just that, before opting for a smile. Because he thought Zhou Mi knew already.

***


End file.
